


Let him sleep

by stardust009



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Comfort, F/M, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust009/pseuds/stardust009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to fill kink prompt – “There are quite a few fic where Aramis has nightmares and doesn't sleep well so I'd like a fic where d'Artagnan finds out about the other's policy of not waking Aramis (unless it’s absolutely necessary) if he happily drops off during the day. Maybe he learns of it when Aramis falls asleep during a briefing in Treville's office? Maybe he has to explain the policy Constance when Aramis falls asleep at her kitchen table?”</p><p>Then they all attempt to help Aramis sleep better in their own unique ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Treville

**Author's Note:**

> “People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”
> 
> George Orwell
> 
> \------------------------
> 
> Set during the series 1 at some point after episode 4 (The Good Soldier)

Despite the windows being open, Treville’s office was hot and stuffy. At least the Captain had been kind enough to let them sit on chairs, which was quite a rarity. So they all sat with their hats on their laps and were in the long, drawn-out and entirely boring process of debriefing the Captain. Usually they lovingly volunteered Athos to the debriefs but, as they all had played various different roles during the last mission, Treville needed to get a brief statement from each of them.

Porthos wasn’t helping. His non-existent level of enthusiasm about giving his version of events was evident in the way he droned on in a monotone voice. If it was an attempt to get Treville to speed up the process it wasn’t working. In fact, it only seemed to make Treville ask more questions of Porthos than he had of Athos. Or perhaps it was just that Porthos was less experienced in knowing exactly what information Treville needed than Athos was.

D'Artagnan was trying desperately not to fall asleep. Between the monotone voice and the warmth of the room, his eyelids were heavy and he was struggling to keep them open. He wasn’t the only one. He could see that Aramis, who was on his left sitting between himself and Porthos, was having the same problem. His head kept on dropping forward until his chin touched his chest which seemed to wake him up and his head darted back up. D'Artagnan tried not to chuckle at this comrade with a level of sympathy. Attempting to deal with his own struggles, d'Artagnan started to fidget on the seat, moving about to keep himself awake. Until he looked at Athos on his right who was giving him the glare, which promptly made d'Artagnan sit still.

D'Artagnan was relieved to hear Porthos getting to the end of his version of events. Now they only had two more statements to make. He glanced at Aramis once more and was shocked to discover the man’s head had rolled back, his mouth was open and he was snoring softly. d'Artagnan’s eyes went wide. The one and only time d'Artagnan had mistakenly fallen asleep on guard duty, Athos and Treville were so mad that they made him clean out the horse’s stables for two weeks. His eyes quickly shot towards Treville who appeared too busy looking at what he was writing to notice.

So, whilst the Captain was distracted, d'Artagnan delivered a swift kick to Aramis' shin. It made the sleeping-man jerk but he didn’t seem to wake up. He opened his mouth to whisper a warning but then realised that would only draw attention to the fact his fellow Musketeer was asleep so he decided not to. Instead, he gave Aramis a poke in the leg with his finger.

“D'Artagnan!” hissed a voice and d'Artagnan turned from looking at Aramis to staring at Treville. D'Artagnan sat still, looking at Treville, feeling guilty like he was the one asleep. Only Treville just gave him an Athos type glare too and then asked Porthos yet another question. D'Artagnan was confused. Surely Treville could see that Aramis was fast asleep? If there was any doubt, a snort came from the sleeping man who then slowly leaned forward, folded his arms onto Treville’s desk before resting his head down onto his arms. D'Artagnan felt sick. Aramis was about to get into serious trouble and d'Artagnan felt bad because he hadn’t been-able to wake him up. Yet, much to his surprise, Treville just moved his papers out of the way and carried on writing. D'Artagnan was now entirely confused. He glanced to his right at Athos but the man was looking straight ahead. He glanced at his left at Porthos who just continued talking. None of them seemed remotely bothered that Aramis was fast asleep with his head on Treville’s desk.

“D'Artagnan,” he heard his name again and looked at Treville who was saying it.

“Yes?” D'Artagnan asked, wondering if he looked as confused as he felt.

“Would you like to start from the beginning?”

“Well I.....” D'Artagnan stumbled to find his thoughts, he was far too distracted about what had just happened. “I mean....so when we got there Athos asked me to.....”

“Shhhhh,” Treville said, placing his finger to his lips. D'Artagnan paused for a moment wondering why he had been told to be quiet.  “Don’t wake him up,” Treville added before writing something onto his paper again. So d'Artagnan continued giving his version of events in a whisper.

D'Artagnan really had no-idea what he had said. The whole thing had been a blur and, before he knew it, they were all leaving Aramis behind to sleep in the office. Athos and Porthos were walking across the balcony talking about visiting the tavern like nothing had happened.

“Ummm,” D'Artagnan said, coughing into his hand to interrupt them both as he followed behind. “Would one of you like to kindly explain to me what I just witnessed?” D'Artagnan asked. The other two stopped and turned, looking at him like he was an annoyance for a second. Until something obviously clicked in their heads and then both made an ‘ooooh’ sound.

“When he sleeps, we let him,” Athos explained and then that was it, like he expected the answer to satisfy d'Artagnan enough. Only Porthos obviously noticed the still baffled expression on d'Artagnan’s face so decided to further explain.

“He doesn’t sleep well. Not since Savoy. He was doing better but I think all this business with the Duke has brought up the nightmares again. So, once in a while, if he needs to sleep during the day we let him.”

D'Artagnan stayed quiet for a moment, trying to make sense of the information. He knew about Savoy and he knew that Aramis often preferred to entertain instead of sleep. He’d just never put two and two together before.

“Even Treville?” D'Artagnan asked, surprised that the Captain was in on this.

“He’s the one who told us to leave him the first time it happened,” Athos explained. “He’ll stay with him until he wakes up.”

“But...” Porthos stepped forward for a moment, reaching out to place his hand on d'Artagnan’s shoulder. “...we don’t say anything to Aramis about it. He knows he does it, but he doesn’t like to talk about it. So we never mention it, alright?”

D'Artagnan nodded because, if they didn’t talk to Aramis about it, then neither would he.


	2. Constance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Constance finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a short chapter. The next three will be a longer. To give you a tease they'll include bets with d'Artagnan, angst with Athos and some comfort with Porthos.

It didn’t happen again until a week later when they were all gathered in Constance’s house. It was the place they always went when their planning didn’t involve strictly official Musketeer business. Constance would grumble about it but d'Artagnan knew full well that she enjoyed having them all there, even though her routine of slapping Aramis on a regular basis was still continuing. Once they had all decided what they were doing, Athos and Porthos hurried off leaving the other two in the house to wait.

“Well you must be hungry, I’ll make you some lunch,” Constance offered, obviously happy to keep their company for a little longer. Aramis, being his usual charming self, smiled and accepted her kind offer with his usual stream of gracious and pleasant words. After talking for a while d'Artagnan excused himself to empty his bladder. When he returned he found Constance standing with a bowl of stew in her hand, stirring and stirring it as she stared at something. When d'Artagnan fully stepped into the room he immediately saw what she was looking at. Aramis was fast asleep at the table.

“We were talking and then I turned to serve up the stew and, the next thing I know, I look back and he’s asleep!” Constance babbled when d'Artagnan came into the room. “It’s a little rude.”

d'Artagnan placed his thumbs into his belt and swayed on his feet.

“He does this,” he explained, knowing that he could trust Constance with the secret. “He doesn’t sleep well so we let him catch up with sleep during the day sometimes. He isn’t doing it to be rude. He’s just exhausted.” d'Artagnan mentioned the ‘we’ part with a certain amount of pride in his voice. He could see Constance’s face changing from being quite taken back to suddenly becoming one of empathy.

“Why doesn’t he sleep well?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“He has nightmares,” d'Artagnan explained. “I think it’s to do with the massacre at Savoy.” Constance knew about the massacre after helping them harbour Marsac.

She nodded, put the stew down and then turned away from d'Artagnan, moving over to a thick wooden chest and opening it quietly. Taking out a navy blue blanket she carried it over to the sleeping Musketeer. She picked up Aramis’ hat, which had fallen off his head, and placed it right beside him on the table. Then she tenderly wrapped the blanket over his shoulders and reached out as if she was going to stroke his hair. Only her fingers stopped just before she did so and she pulled her hand away. d'Artagnan watched as the woman he loved just made his heart swell even more. It was lovely to see her be compassionate with Aramis instead of slapping him around the face, even if Aramis would have no knowledge of it when he woke up. Eventually she stood up again and came back over to d'Artagnan, passing him the bowl of stew instead.

“If he doesn’t sleep well, maybe you should all try to help him. You are his friends after all,” she suggested. Athos and Porthos returned an hour later and spoke to d'Artagnan and Constance in hushed whispers upon discovering Aramis fast asleep at the table.

“We need to catch Treville and talk to him,” Athos informed them, the other two nodded.

“Shall I wake Aramis?” d'Artagnan asked, looking over his shoulder at their dozing friend. 

Athos seemed to think about it before shaking his head. “No. Let him sleep.” And, with that, they all left leaving Constance to keep an eye on the sleeping Musketeer although it wasn’t long before he woke up. Constance was cleaning dishes in a bowl of water when she heard a snort and then saw Aramis raise his head, the look of puzzlement on his face.

“Where are the others?” he asked her the moment he spotted her.

“Back at the garrison,” she informed him. “They left to speak to Treville. They said that they’d wake you if they needed you.”

“Need me?” Aramis quickly rose from his chair and placed his hat on his head. “They always need me,” he added with a smile. “Why did you let them leave without me?”

“It wasn’t my choice,” Constance said, standing her ground. “They told me to let you sleep.”

“Sleep?” Aramis looked a little horrified at the thought. “I don’t need to sleep!” He immediately raced past her and accidentally slammed the door on his way out.

“You’re welcome,” she mumbled after he had left although, within seconds, she heard the door re-open and Aramis came back into the room. He wrapped his arms around Constance and hugged her tightly, before turning around and racing off again. It left a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up.....d'Artagnan


	3. D'Artagnan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> D'Artagnan thinks he has the solution to help Aramis sleep better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments and kudos. They are very much appreciated and they encourage me to keep writing.

_“If he doesn’t sleep well, maybe you should all try to help him. You are his friends after all.”_

The words went round and round in d'Artagnan’s head and he couldn’t shake them off. Constance was right, but how could they help him? D'Artagnan watched Aramis closely over the following few days, noticing the black bags under his eyes getting darker and amount of yawns escaping his mouth increasing. He hadn’t dozed off properly during the day for a while but he had been close to it. Once Porthos had to reach out to wake him up as his head drooped forward and he almost fell off his horse. Yet none of them mentioned anything about it and the smile and the charm of Aramis never faded. D'Artagnan had no-idea how Aramis managed to find the energy but he somehow did. Energy.....perhaps that was the answer. D'Artagnan would have to exhaust Aramis so much that the man would just pass out and sleep through the night. Grinning at his new idea d'Artagnan decided to put it into practice straight away. As soon as their morning parade duty at the palace was over they had the rest of the day off, which provided the perfect opportunity. They all mounted their horses and d'Artagnan immediately rode over to Aramis.

“Ten sous that I beat you to the lake,” d'Artagnan said, throwing down a challenge. Aramis was a little taken back at the sudden bet but the day was warm and he wasn’t in a huge rush to get back to the garrison.

“But this is a fools bet, your horse is younger than mine.”

“Well you know what they say about experience....” Athos muttered from somewhere nearby. Aramis chuckled and turned his head to face the older man.

“And what do they say about experience?” he asked which only got a twisted smile as a response from Athos.

“Can I join in?” Porthos asked from this horse, where-ever there was betting and money involved, he was always interested.

“We can all race,” d'Artagnan grinned. If the other two joined in then Aramis would be more competitive after all.

“Count me out,” Athos said. “One of us has to be a grown-up.”

“Twenty sous,” d'Artagnan suddenly suggested, increasing the prize money. “That’s eighty between us all. Whoever reaches the lake first, wins it all.”

“Then again, being a grown up is boring,” came the mumbled from Athos and soon they were all lined-up on their horses ready for the race. On d'Artagnan’s shout they started galloping, the sound of the thundering of hooves leaving the palace as they raced away towards the lake at the other end of the grounds. D'Artagnan smiled, the wind in his hair, his leg muscles doing their work as his horse sprinted off. They were all quite level with each other for a while, if one of them streaked ahead it only made the others kick their horses harder and try to overtake. The lake was getting closer and d'Artagnan knew that his horse still had a lot left in it because he’d been holding back. So, just at the right time, he really went for it. Slapping the reins and yelling at his horse, the animal suddenly had another bolt of life and d'Artagnan flew past the others. He was doing the race to tire Aramis out but that didn’t mean that he had to let Aramis win. He eventually reached the lake first with a triumphant cheer, letting go of the reins he threw his hands up in the air but his horse continued to run towards the water. D'Artagnan suddenly panicked.

“Woah!” he yelled and tried to grab the reins back as the horse galloped into the lake. The horse stumbled which caused d'Artagnan to slip from the saddle and fall right off, landing with a loud splash into the cold water. Thankfully the water was waist deep so he didn’t hurt himself when he fell, he just got drenched. He could hear the other three laughing at him from the safety of the bank as he stood up in his soggy clothes.

“I still won,” he grumbled and then noticed something even more interesting. Hanging from a tree branch which stretched out from the bank over the lake there was a rope swing. It gave him another idea.

“Perhaps if you exercised your arms as much as your groin, you’d be doing a better job,” came Porthos’ teasing remarks a few minutes later as Aramis dangled from the rope.

“You’re meant to be counting!” came the yell back as Aramis gripped on for dear life. Athos was looking less than impressed, folding his arms and leaning against the tree as he watched the others continue their ridiculous betting. As much as he would never admit it, seeing a rope hanging from a tree made him think darker thoughts than it obviously did for the others.

Aramis held on for quite an impressive amount of time before he squealed, let go and splashed into the water. Porthos then teased him about the squeal the entire time he was having his turn. After all of them, apart from Athos, got a dunking in the water and Porthos was declared the worthy winner they all lay on their backs in their wet trousers drying themselves off in the sunshine. It wasn’t long before d'Artagnan heard gentle snoring coming from underneath the hat covering Aramis’ face from the sun. It made him frown, an expression Porthos noticed as he sat up.

“What’s wrong?” he asked d'Artagnan. “You didn’t hurt yourself falling off your horse did you?”

D'Artagnan shook his head. “No, I.......” he wondered if he should be honest with the other man and then realised that Porthos cared about Aramis more than anyone. Perhaps Porthos would be-able to assist with his desire to help Aramis.“...I was trying to tire Aramis out so he’d sleep better tonight. But he’s sleeping already which means that it probably won’t work.”

Porthos looked over at Aramis and gently reached out to pick off a stray strand of grass from the sleeping man’s chest as it gently moved up and down. “Well you exhausted him out enough that he’s sleeping now, that’s something. And, have you noticed......” his voice went a little quieter. “.....he doesn’t have nightmares when he falls asleep around us?”

D'Artagnan thought about it and realised that Porthos was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up......Athos


	4. Athos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Musketeers share a bath and Athos attempts to help Aramis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [I know that people didn't tend to bathe very much in those days but I'm sort of thinking that, if the opportunity is there, even smelly soldiers would appreciate it]

“Oh, Athos,” were the words he heard when he woke up from his drunken slumber, which meant that he was already annoyed. Not only did he have a hangover which hurt so much he could barely raise his head, but someone was actually in his room. He heard the sound of empty wine bottles being cleared away, each time something clinked it shot painful waves through his sore brain. Usually the other three had the sense to leave him alone on the mornings after but obviously not this time.  He tried to ignore the other person until said person lowered their head so close to his own that he could feel the warm breath against his ear.

“Are you awake?” the voice asked. Athos knew who was it, Aramis. Aramis was usually the one who fussed.

“No,” was the grunt he decided to give back. He heard Aramis chuckle before the face moved away.

“An unexpected duty has arisen. Treville sent me to fetch you. Well....he sent d'Artagnan actually but d'Artagnan seemed less than keen to come and wake you up. I, on the other hand, are far less fearful of your wrath.”

“A mistake on your part,” Athos grumbled as he tried to push himself up. If they had a duty, then he needed to move. Aramis was still cleaning up the room when Athos had managed to sit himself up in bed and could give him an angry glare. Eventually Aramis noticed and smiled cheerful.

“Ah, now you’re up I’ll let you continue your morning routine of returning to the land of the living and I’ll see you down in the garrison.”

“And how did you sleep?” Athos questioned, his words made Aramis pause. Athos wouldn’t usually have asked but d'Artagnan had been talking non-stop recently about Aramis and it had made Athos start to wonder if he should get more involved in helping somehow.

“Actually not too bad. I’ve discovered that a few glasses of wine before bed helps.”

The admission made Athos frown more which only seemed to cause Aramis to chuckle.

“I know, I’m turning into you,” Aramis joked before leaving the room in a much cleaner state than it had been when he had arrived. Athos groaned and buried his face into his hands. Curse that man for always being so cheerful in the mornings, even with a hangover.

Yet Athos couldn’t get Aramis’ words out of his head for the rest of the entire day. Although he knew Aramis had meant no offense by saying them, Athos couldn’t stop thinking about them.  

They rode out to search for mounted robbers who had frightened some of the King’s guests which meant that the King was very angry and asked for his best men to investigate. Considering Athos was now his favourite Musketeer since he beat the Duke of Savoy in a sword-fight, the King had insisted that the ‘funny-looking grumpy one’ be on the mission. Unfortunately the rain didn’t let up and it wasn’t long before all four of them were cold, hungry and miserable. So, as soon as darkness fell, Athos scouted ahead and managed to find them an inn. The innkeeper gave them two rooms for the money he offered and Athos accepted. They had at times all shared a single room so two would be luxury. He headed over to his friends who were taking off their wet coats and hats in front of the cracking fire.

“Two rooms,” he informed them. “I’ll share with Aramis.”

He noticed that Aramis immediately looked put-out but Athos wasn’t in the mood for an argument so he ignored the sulking face and walked up the steps to find his room. Whenever Aramis and Porthos shared a bedroom all Aramis did the following day was complain about the snoring, which Athos never understood considering Aramis was the one who always automatically offered to share a bed with Porthos with a level of enthusiasm that hadn’t gone unnoticed . However, whenever Athos shared a bed with d'Artagnan, he was kept up all night long by d'Artagnan’s incessant twitching and moving. Perhaps this way they’d all get some sleep and, more importantly, Athos wanted to speak to Aramis.

Athos rested on the bed for a while alone in the room before his stomach rumbled so he decided to join the others downstairs for supper. Only he promptly discovered that the others weren’t all downstairs when he heard voices rowing from another room down the hallway.

“Get out!” came the rather angry shout of Aramis from behind the door.

“No,” was the response from d'Artagnan. Athos wondered for a moment if he should even bother intervening until he heard Aramis say something along the lines of, ‘Get out or I will drown you,’ which was when Athos decided that it was his duty to step-in. He pushed open the door to find a large tub in the middle of the room and d'Artagnan lounging in it with a smug look on his face. Aramis was standing beside the tub with his hands on his hips and his back to the door.

“What’s going on?” Athos asked, his voice showing more annoyance than concern.

“The innkeeper’s daughter very kindly said that I could use her bath and filled it up with hot water for me,” Aramis explained, turning his head over his shoulder to look at Athos. “Then this horse-smelling rat jumped in before I had the chance!”

“Well, if I smell of horse, then you’ll be glad that I am in here,” d'Artagnan pointed out.

Athos sighed.

“Get out,” Aramis said sternly.

“No,” d'Artagnan repeated once more. “You always leave me to wash in your dirty water. Not this time.”

Athos was tempted to leave them to it but, like the good leader that he was, he decided instead to sort out the issue for them. “The tub is large enough for the both of you.” And, with that, he began closing the door just as Aramis grinned and started undressing.

“Aramis, don’t you dare!” was the last thing he heard before the sound of splashing. He walked down the steps and found Porthos already tucking into hot soup. Athos asked the innkeeper for the same before sitting with the other man.

“Where are the other two?” Porthos asked.

“Sharing a bath,” Athos said which made Porthos raise an eyebrow but he said nothing.

Later that evening a rather traumatised looking d'Artagnan and a satisfied looking Aramis joined the other two for dinner but they were all tired from their day of riding so they soon all went up to their rooms to retire for the night. Athos quickly picked up on the fact that Aramis was nervous about sleeping by the way he re-folded his coat four times before placing it on the chair in the corner of the room. Then he took forever to get his boots off. Athos was already undressed and in the bed whilst Aramis was still working on his belts.

“Before you knew me I was a very different man,” Athos said breaking the silence of the room. He had been nervous about talking to Aramis and opening up a little part of himself which he usually never spoke about and, yet, he found himself wanting to. “Well...perhaps not entirely different. I was still brave, intelligent, modest.....”

This drew a small chuckle from Aramis as the younger man lifted his head to look over at Athos as he continued to undress whilst he sat on the chair. It encouraged Athos to continue.

“I changed, Aramis. I changed because my ability to be care-free and content was ripped out of me. I drink to forget my ghosts because they seem louder when I’m alone.”

The smile was gone from Aramis’ face and he was finding it difficult to look at Athos which Athos knew meant that he had touched on something there.

“Especially at night, am I right?” he asked and then stayed quiet, waiting to see if Aramis was going to respond. He got a slow nod of the head from his friend.

Athos sat himself up a little more in the bed. “I understand your desire to silence those ghosts and the desperate need to sleep, even just a couple of nights without the flashbacks, without having to wake up sweating with an ache in your gut. But, Aramis, drink isn’t the answer. It is a short-term solution for men like me that don’t have the strength to keep hoping.”

Aramis finally raised his head again and he sighed before speaking, “You are a strong man, Athos.”

The comment made Athos smile a little. “And, in time, perhaps I will remember that. But you don’t need to get as lost as I have, my friend. Don’t turn into me.”

Athos wasn’t sure if Aramis even remembered the words which had been ringing around his own head. He stopped talking as Aramis came over to the bed. Athos moved over to give him more space.

“Being you wouldn’t be so bad,” Aramis said, sounding very serious for a moment as he sat down. “I mean.....I quite like you on the odd occasion.”

“Stop being charming,” Athos warned but he said it with a hint of amusement in his voice. “One of me is enough. We need you to be Aramis.”

Aramis smiled and made himself comfortable. Once he had fallen asleep he slept right through the night not even realising that Athos had decided to stay awake, just in case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally......Porthos


	5. Porthos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porthos cares enough that he can't hide his emotions when Aramis acts before thinking but can Porthos help with the nightmares?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Thank you to Wishful86 for the prompt. I really enjoyed expanding on your original idea and I'm grateful that you were happy for me to do just that.
> 
> And, to everyone reading this, keep posting those prompts. I've already seen at least three more that I want to sink my teeth into. I don't know how I'm going to find the time in my life right now to write them all but I'm determined to give it a try.]

“Aramis!” was the cry he heard being yelled across the forest, it was the familiar booming voice of Porthos. Athos wanted to turn to look but he had a man with a dirty brown jacket and a sword too big for him to hold currently swinging the blade in his direction and that had to be dealt with first. The man proved to not be much of a match for Athos, who promptly created a slice across his neck which was deep enough to make the man grab his throat and fall to the ground choking on his own blood. Killing was something he never got used to but it was a necessary part of the job. He immediately looked up to check on the others. D'Artagnan was fighting two men at the same time and doing a fine job of it by the looks of things. A slight sense of pride welled up in his chest but only for a moment, he still hadn’t seen Porthos or Aramis. He eventually noticed the large figure of Porthos through the trees. The man seemed to be on his knees but he was getting up, holding his left arm like it was injured.

Athos turned his head again, still looking for Aramis and eventually he spotted horses galloping away from the battle scene. One horse was without a rider whilst the other horse had two men, one of them being Aramis. How Aramis had managed to jump onto the bandit’s horse Athos didn’t know but even he panicked when he saw Aramis wrap his arms around the bandit and pull him off. Soon they were both falling backwards off the horse and crashing to the ground. Athos saw Porthos, despite his injury, racing forward and Athos had to make the split decision to stay with d'Artagnan or go with Porthos. He decided that, if Porthos was running towards their friend, then he had to stay so he ran over to the youngest Musketeer and, between the two of them, they took down the final two bandits. Although he was pretty sure that d'Artagnan would insist that he hadn’t needed help.

Once the fight had settled down Athos now had the opportunity to find out the fate of Aramis. By the time he and d'Artagnan reached the other two, he found Porthos kneeling over the fallen man and seemingly fuming. He had Aramis’ shirt tightly gripped in his fingers and he was shaking his fallen comrade.

“Why did you do that?!” he was yelling. “Why?”

Athos looked down at Aramis who was lying on his back, his uniform covered in blood. Athos was unsure at this stage if the blood belonged to Aramis or someone else. Aramis was too busy being shaken by Porthos to really give any answers.

“Porthos,” Athos said, trying to sound calm as to not rile the man up more than he already was. “Perhaps we need to check if he is injured.”

“I’ll give him a bloody injury!” The large Musketeer snapped but the arrival of his friends did seem to calm him down and he slowly let go of the shirt which made Aramis flop back to the ground. Then Porthos sighed loudly, got back up onto his feet and moved away. Aramis looked up at Athos who had already decided not to question the anger for the moment. He often felt like shaking sense into Aramis himself after all. He noticed the bandit Aramis had pulled off the horse face down and dead nearby.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, tugging up the blood-soaked shirt a little and trying to see where all of the blood had come from. Aramis looked down at the roaming hands.

“It’s not mine. I sliced his throat, he bled all over me,” Aramis explained which brought some relief. “I think I might have cracked a rib or two though.”Athos was suddenly a little less relieved. Getting Aramis to ride back to Paris on a horse with broken ribs was going to be difficult. Athos should know, he had done tried it once himself and almost passed out on the journey. And then there was Porthos’ arm which he was still cradling as he paced up and down in anger. Athos sighed. All of the robbers were dead but they’d have to stay in the town one more night to tend to injuries.

They soon found themselves back in the same inn. The innkeeper’s daughter, who had taken a fancy to Aramis the night before, was kindly bringing them up extra blankets, bandages, water and whatever else they needed with even more grateful enthusiasm when d'Artagnan recounted the story of their heroic actions to her. Somehow, according to d'Artagnan’s story, he had taken down the vast majority of the bandits on his own. The others were too preoccupied to correct him. Athos was encouraging Aramis to lie on the bed and, once the girl had gone, d'Artagnan tried to get Porthos to allow him to look at his arm.

“It’s fine,” he was grunting back and refused to be touched. D'Artagnan eventually gave up and looked over at Athos who sighed. The only person Porthos willingly let near his wounds was the very man he seemed to still be cross with. Aramis had been strangely quiet the entire time which Athos would have put down to the fact his ribs were sore but he knew there was more to it than that. Whilst Athos knew that Aramis would never admit it out loud, the fact that Porthos was so angry at him was clearly upsetting the Musketeer. He barely even looked Athos in the eyes as if he felt guilty for something.

“Take your top off,” Athos encouraged. Aramis did so, slowly, removing his coat and his blood covered shirt. Soon he was sitting up in bed topless and Athos immediately noticed the dark bruising already forming on the left side of his ribs. He reached for some of the bandages the innkeeper’s daughter had given them and encouraged Aramis to lean forward a little. Athos carefully wrapped the bandages around his injured friend’s ribs, tight enough to prove some support but loose enough to allow the man to breath. Aramis still wasn’t saying anything so Athos presumed that his nursing skills weren’t too awful. Once Aramis was wrapped up Athos looked over at Porthos who was sitting on the chair and still looking grumpy.

“D'Artagnan, you must be hungry,” Athos said, deciding that leaving the two of them to talk would be the best thing.

“Not really,” d'Artagnan answered as he held some of the blankets but still hovered over Porthos. Athos sighed a little in frustration at d'Artagnan not understanding so decided to try again.

“Well you might change your mind once you smell the food.”

D'Artagnan looked over at Athos, “I’m not......” He obviously suddenly understood what Athos was trying to do. “Oooh....” he said, making it somewhat obvious but Athos appreciated him trying. “Actually I am a little hungry.” He said, dropped the blankets and followed Athos out of the room.

The remaining two were both silent for a while, until Aramis sighed and rolled his eyes. He slowly shuffled across the bed and got up, wincing a little and grabbing his side in pain.

“You might need stitches,” Aramis said, moving towards his coat to get his sewing-kit.

“I’m not bleeding,” Porthos grumbled which made Aramis look suspicious. He picked up his sewing-kit anyway and went over to Porthos, helping the man out of his jacket. Porthos, despite his mood, didn’t even protest as he just let Aramis undressed him. It wasn’t long before Aramis was poking and prodding at the arm. Porthos was right, it wasn’t a wound, but he had damaged the muscles. Aramis had a feeling that it would be fine with rest. Once he was satisfied that Porthos would live he slowly started moving back towards the bed.

“Why do you do it?” Porthos asked as the other man lowered himself back down. “Do crazy things like that? Jump on bombs, fling yourself off buildings, throw yourself from one moving horse onto another.....”

Aramis smiled a little before wincing once again as he leaned back against the pillows. “I do it because I’m a Musketeer.”

“Really?” Porthos said, raising his eyebrow. He found that an odd excuse to use. “Even Athos doesn’t pull off crap like that and that man has a bigger death wish than you do.”

Aramis stopped smiling and looked over. “I don’t do it because I want to die,” he said. “I do it to feel alive.”

This puzzled Porthos greatly. He didn’t understand how jumping on a bomb was a celebration of being alive. Aramis knew that he had confused his friend so he smiled warmly before explaining.

“I should have died a long time ago but I didn’t. Every day I am alive is a gift. I don’t want to let caution and fear hold me back.”

“But you also don’t need to hurry the end along,” Porthos pointed out and then he paused. “If you don’t let fear over-shadow your life, then why do the nightmares scare you?” he asked, not understanding if Aramis was so blasé about fear, then why did dreams of Savoy haunt him so much? He wasn’t sure if he was even going to get an answer from Aramis at first. The other man stared at Porthos for a long time before finally speaking.

“They were asleep, Porthos. They were slaughtered as they slept and now when I sleep I see their ash faces and white eyes looking up at me. Whenever I dream I see the red blood dripping onto the white snow, staining the landscape like the devil’s river. I can overcome fear when I am awake but, when I sleep, it seems to be out of my hands.”

“Then let me help you,” Porthos said, getting up from his chair and moving over to the bed. “Athos told me you slept right through the night with him. You always well sleep around us.”

Aramis nodded and then immediately lowered his head to hide his emotions.  “I feel safe with you,” he spoke so quietly that Porthos only just heard the words.

“Then let me help,” Porthos said again, sitting down on the bed and gently placing his finger beneath Aramis’ chin, lifting up his face so he could see it. “You only have to ask.”

“Ask what?” Aramis whispered, searching his friend’s eyes.

“Ask me to spend the night with you, every night, until the nightmares go away again.”

Aramis made a tutting sound, as if that idea was ludicrous but he didn’t pull his face away. “How can I ask that of you?”

“Because I’m your friend,” Porthos said, looking right into the tired eyes. “And I love you.”

Later that night, when Athos asked d'Artagnan to peak in to make sure that the other two hadn’t injured each other further, he was surprised to find them in bed together. Aramis was half on top of Porthos, Porthos was holding him protectively and they were both fast asleep. d'Artagnan smiled. Perhaps it meant that Aramis would start to sleep well again. Now he could work on helping Athos!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end.
> 
> I've decided to let you all interpret the words of Porthos in whichever way you wish ;)


End file.
